Below the Surface
by TJ Sparkles
Summary: Can you ever really KNOW someone? First impressions aren't always accurate..sometimes a man hides his darkest secrets deep down. Take a closer look, and you may get more than what you bargained for. Various Superstars featured. Please R&R.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Hey guys! I'm back with another story, hopefully you will enjoy. I got the idea when looking through my DSM-IV manual (the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders), which I have to memorize for my job. I thought the idea would be cool. Please be sure to leave me your feedback, good or bad. **

**The set up for this is kind of like "Seven Deadly Sins" except that instead of sins, different disorders will be featured in each chapter. I've got the first four chapters planned out, but after that, I may need help from you guys as to which Superstars I should use. I'll keep you posted. **

**Thanks to Leesie and Chantel for the encouragement and reassuring me that this idea wasn't totally crazy, LOL.

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Chapter 1: Antisocial Personality Disorder: CM Punk

"_The essential feature of Antisocial Personality Disorder is a pervasive pattern of disregard for, and violation of, the rights of others that begins in childhood or early adolescence and continues into adulthood"—DSM-IV-TR, Fourth Edition._

From a very young age, Phil Brooks knew that he was different than his peers. They all seemed to be so….. He never let his emotions take over. According to his family and that moron of a shrink he'd been seeing since he was a kid, the reason that he didn't let his emotions take over was because he didn't have any. Emotions were for weak people, and weakness was one characteristic that Phil would _not _allow himself to have. As a kid, he'd enjoyed doing twisted, perverse things, just to gauge reactions from his classmates and family members. He didn't have any friends—not that he wanted them anyway—and it was interesting to see the looks of horror and disgust on their faces. Pleasure arose from those reactions—Phil genuinely enjoyed turning people's stomachs with his actions. He'd even set a neighbor's dog on fire one time just to hear the animal's cries of pain.

People appeared to be horrified by his actions, but Phil knew that, deep down, they had the same feelings he did. The difference was that he wasn't afraid to bring those feelings to the surface, to let them out. When he turned eighteen, his parents had had enough, and immediately sent him to another psychiatrist, who had then diagnosed the young man with Antisocial Personality Disorder. According to the good doctor, there was an explanation for the manipulative, deceitful actions of Phil—those two emotions were the central features of the disorder. Besides the deceit and the manipulative behavior Punk displayed, there were also other twisted, more disturbing traits that he brought to light as often as he could. The one and only serious relationship he'd had in his life only lasted about six months, and the girl had been the one to break it off, after learning that he was only with her for her money. Punk remembered the hurt and the surprised look on her face, as if she couldn't believe that he would do something like that to her. What did the stupid bitch think, that he loved her or something? He didn't care about her at all—he'd used her, and her purpose had been served. When the relationship ended, he wasn't sad or angry. He was relieved. He didn't have time for relationships anyway, and besides, in all his years of searching, he had never been able to find a woman that lived up to his standards. He probably never would.

As he grew older, Phil ditched his birth name, left Chicago, and traveled to the city of New York to make a name for himself. Phil became CM Punk, a professional wrestler with a "straight-edge" gimmick. He refrained from smoking, drinking, and doing drugs, and proclaimed to the adoring fans that he could be a role model, a paragon of virtue for them to look up. Small children all over the country would look at their parents and declare, "I want to be just like CM Punk when I grow up." He fed these outrageous lies to everyone, and they were believed. No one outside of his inner circle knew what Punk was really like. If they had, it is safe to say that no parent would allow their child to even watch Punk, let alone emulate him. He claimed to be a role model, when in actuality he was far from that.

Of course, the entire gimmick was a façade. Well, except for the straight-edge part. Punk really didn't do drugs or drink or smoke. Those were the only honorable qualities that he possessed. Calling him a jerk would be a huge understatement: the guy had no morals, ignored the feelings and wants of those around him, and showed total disregard for anyone but himself. He refused to conform to social norms, explaining that he was being a "rebel" and "thinking for himself." Society would not dictate what he could and could not do, he repeatedly stated. He fancied himself a rule breaker, but the real reason for his refusal to follow the basic laws of everyday life had nothing to do with being a rebel and everything to do with his illness. But his fans didn't know that. They just thought that CM Punk was a really cool guy.

On the surface, Punk seemed to be funny, intelligent, easy going, and dedicated to his passion. He gave off an aura of confidence, and people cheered for him because he was truly one of a kind. Over the years, Punk had mastered the art of lying and pretending to be something totally different from his true self in order to fit in and make it in his profession, and the world in general. But beneath all the smiles and the witty retorts lay a man with a completely blackened heart, one that had been swallowed long ago by the abyss that was his illness.

No one could save him now. Phil Brooks was a cruel, twisted, extremely sick individual. He purposely went out of his way to make other people miserable, and was only truly happy when other people were upset. Breaking others down was what he lived for and thrived on.

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**If this totally sucked, I'm sorry. Next chap will feature Narcissistic Personality Disorder..wanna take a guess as to which Superstar fits the bill for that one? O.o**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Wow, I just forgot all about this story. I'm sure you guys are ready to murder me for not updating. Sheesh. School's been crazy, plus I got a new job & yeah..just very little time.**

**Anyway, there will be about 5 chapters total, so..hope you guys enjoy & keep your eyes peeled for them!  


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Chapter 2: Narcissistic Personality Disorder: Chris Jericho

"_Individuals with Narcissistic Personality Disorder have a grandiose sense of self-importance."_

Whoever discovered the symptoms for Narcissistic Personality Disorder must have had Chris Jericho in mind. At least that's what everyone in the business said, anyway. Most people that knew the Canadian could not stand him. No, that was actually putting it mildly. The majority of the roster—actually, everyone in his life, if you wanted to be honest—_loathed _Chris Jericho. He would often stroll through the halls of whichever arena the WWE was taping at with an insane amount of confidence, acting like he owned the place.

Winning the Unified Tag Team Titles hadn't made matters better, either. If Chris had seemed standoffish and egotistical before, well, now it was a million times worse. It was almost as if the belts' main purpose was to act as a catalyst for the egomaniacal ways Chris now possessed. Whereas he'd at least made somewhat of an attempt to make conversation with people before, now he refused to speak to anyone but Big Show.

Calling the former Undisputed Champion a jerk would be a huge understatement. Chris constantly bragged about his numerous accomplishments—the fact that he was the first ever Undisputed Champion was just one of them—to anyone who would listen. Most of the time, whichever Superstar he was talking to would simply just walk off in the middle of the conversation, but unfortunately, the Superstars that didn't know Chris that well didn't know to walk off and just leave him be. Poor Evan Bourne was one of those people, as was Cody Rhodes.

Nine times out of ten, Chris would catch one or both of them in catering and would casually just make his way over to them, and before either of them could speak, he would bring up a match that he'd had a week or so before, and offer advice to the two of them on how they could be as good as him, if they worked hard. It was a blatant lie, because Chris knew that there was no way that either of them would ever be able to match up to him in any way, shape or form, but he looked at himself as kind of a locker room leader; one that the younger guys could go to for advice.

Chris wasn't well-liked or respected by his peers, but if he knew this, he simply chose to ignore it. Why did he care what they thought anyway? He knew that he had more talent, looks, and charisma in his index finger than the entire roster combined. Besides, he didn't need friends anyway. This was the wrestling business, not a fraternity.

"_Individuals with this disorder generally require excessive admiration. Their self-esteem is almost invariably very fragile."_

But even though he projected this standoffish, couldn't-care-less attitude, deep down, Chris was completely different than the image everyone associated with him. He always had to be complimented on how he looked, and he always took an ungodly amount of time to get ready in the morning. To everyone else, Chris' fashion sense seemed so comfortable and laid back, almost as if he just threw on whatever he found lying at the foot of his bed in the morning. No one, apart from maybe Christian or Edge, knew that Chris got a facial and a pedicure every Wednesday, and touched up his highlights on Friday. He always made sure to pick out what he was going to wear to a taping four days in advance. His tenacity when it came to perfection was almost ridiculous.

"_They expect to be catered to and are puzzled or furious when this does not happen."_

Even though he was part of the Superstar roster, it could be said that Chris would have fit in just fine among the Divas. When he stayed on the road, Chris always ordered room service, at exactly the same time of night, and always ordered the same meal. Upon its arrival, Chris would take the food out of the bags the hotel staff put it in, lift open the containers, and inspect it thoroughly before finally paying the delivery person. If the food was even slightly lukewarm, Chris would place it back in the bag, and demand that another dish was brought up to him. He also expected his room to be spotless upon checking in, and he made sure to run a finger across every nook and cranny in the room. After all, he was the best in the world at what he did, didn't he deserve stellar accommodations?

"_These individuals are often envious of others or believe that others are envious of them." _

At the end of the day, the one opinion that Chris Jericho cared about was his own. He understood that not everyone felt like screaming their praises of him from the rooftops, and that was more than okay with him. He was a god among men, a technical messiah stuck in a land full of mediocre, boring, washed up miscreants. Sometimes it was almost too much to bear, but then he remembered that he had a purpose, a calling: his sole purpose on this earth was to impart knowledge and wisdom upon others; in this case, the poor, untalented, unfortunate souls in the WWE.

If he wasn't Chris Jericho, he'd damn sure be envious and jealous too.

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**Review?**


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